


In the End, It's Good to be Danish in Norway

by EasyTangent



Category: Scandinavia and the World
Genre: Camping, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Humour, M/M, Oneshot, POV Male Character, POV Third Person, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 22:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EasyTangent/pseuds/EasyTangent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Denmark tries to get over his hatred (and fear) of nature. It does not work. But other things do work out for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the End, It's Good to be Danish in Norway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eledhwenlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eledhwenlin/gifts).



The view was clear and the air was of a crystalline quality. It was fresh and serene and full of chlorophyll-green and ozone-blue. He was beginning to regret agreeing to come on any sort of outing. The mountains of Jotunheim were a national park, but they were still far from the sea level and civilization that Denmark was used to.

The air up here sure was thin.

After a number of hiking trips, trips to the beach, and woodland wanders with Sweden and Norway all ending in his own screams, Denmark had been convinced that he needed a bit of a more in-depth approach to his interaction with nature. The solution was a camping trip. An overnight camping trip. A multiple overnight camping trip. A week-long camping trip.

It was supposed to break down his connection to civilization and people and perpendicular architecture. No one had asked that he break his connection to beer. He had been forced to carry his own supply of Tuborg up the path– if it could be called that. The others had simply made comments that the beer was unnecessarily large in both weight and volume to carry up a trail.

He felt a little sulky about that, but kind of understood their position; hiking in Norway could get to be a lot more difficult than anything in his own sand-built country. Not that they were specifically heading for Galdhøpiggen– he didn't even climb Møllehøj if he could help it.

The sulkiness actually stemmed from not having thought to pack something with a higher proof himself; he had seen Åland slipping a flask into the vest underneath his jacket. 

The quartet of Scandinavians and Åland had bused up to Gjendesheim in the middle of park to begin their adventure and Denmark's edification of the natural world. After their arrival, Norway had declared it late enough that they could just head up to the shore of the lake. 

Lake Gjende, where the air was clear and blue and the shore was in a biological flurry of green edging out the grey. The sun setting over the peaks was adding pink and purple strands to the white cloud wisps still in the sky. 

All the colours, the open sky and the clear lake was a bit much. His breath picked up and he grabbed onto a strap hanging from Norway's pack. But no screaming yet. He really was improving.

Feeling the slight tug from the bag on his shoulders, Norway slowed a little as he turned back to look for the cause. The big man found Denmark attached to his backpack, breath both fast and short, and the whites of his eyes a little large. 

“Hey there, Denmark, we're almost at the campsite for tonight. The four of use aren't going to go any farther tonight. The rest of us likely would have, if you hadn't been here. But you aren't so used to the elevation and changing grades...” 

Seeing the unimpressed look that Denmark was giving him, Norway trailed off. 

“I would like to point out that Møllehøj is way smaller than like everything on the Scandinavian Peninsula. You guys just have more practice. And the innate ability to go scrambling over everything made of rock or snow.” 

Norway cut off his boyfriend benignly, “Eventually you will run out of excuses– and it's not like Åland has much innate skill in traversing difficult geography. But now that we've arrived, we can stop hiking and start doing something more familiar to you.” 

At the hopeful look that Denmark shot him, Norway tacked on, “Perhaps something familiar like food. And beer. It should really be finished before we actually have to carry it into the wilderness, and carry the cans out.” 

Not really wanting to carry the beer any further, and completely fine with drinking it tonight, Denmark gave an easy acquiescence. 

Looking over to the other couple on the trip, Denmark saw Åland pulling a tent off his pack while Sweden was shucking off his own pack. “So, which one of you is making some delicious supper in recompense for me actually coming out here with you all?” 

Åland grunted and pushed his glasses up while Sweden replied in the positive: “I've already got today's meal covered. I have supper mostly prepared; it just needs to be boiled to heat it up.” 

“We need some fire then, right? I know how to make fire.” Feeling proud at knowing something outdoorsy, Denmark deflated when Norway told him that most of their cooking would be done over a gas camping stove. “It's easier then attempting to balance a pot or pan over an open flame without carrying around a cooking tripod.” 

To mollify him, Åland added that they would probably create a campfire to enjoy for aesthetics, they just would not cook their supper over it. 

Setting up the burner and setting a pot to boil it, Sweden turned back to help Åland set up their tent. 

Turning around, he saw that Norway already had their tent set up, and was currently loading it with their packs, both so they would stay dry and so they would have access to them when going to sleep and waking up. Their tent had a two-person capacity, with a with plenty of ventilation and a weatherproofing-fly pulled over the entire thing. He was quite proud that it was simple enough to set up that he didn't have to feel bad that he let Norway do it all. 

Content that he didn't have to do camping things, yet slightly bored, he turned back to the stove and pot, set up on a level rock. He noticed the pot lid clinking slightly, and yelled to Sweden that the pot was boiling. 

As the tent of the eastern Nordic and his island lover slowly went up, Sweden yelled back that the person currently not setting up a tent could simply drop the Ziploc bags containing meatballs and rice into the pot to heat. 

Feeling that it was simple enough that he couldn't really complain, he took off the lid and dropped four bags into the water to heat. 

He kind of thought that the plastic would melt and ruin everything, though. 

Still staring at the pot, he felt Norway come up behind him, and settled into the embrace he got from the taller man. 

“The plastic won't melt; it'll be fine to heat the food. But if you want a fire we have to go collect some wood,” and with that, Norway released his embrace and tugged Denmark's hand to pull him away from staring at the gas flame. 

Separating to collect wood, the two managed to find enough fuel to start and maintain a campfire. Denmark didn't particularly care to scour the ground, but he had been told by everyone– and by Sweden multiple times– that he was not allowed to cut anything off a living tree. Apparently even the laws loved Scandinavian nature. 

After they had eaten, the quartet relaxed around the fire and were making headway into Denmark's beer. The sun had set and the darkness was only minutely pushed back by the flames. He was warm and still mostly clean, and he couldn't actually see the obscene amounts of rock and stone and wild grass and untended trees, and he was little drunk and his boyfriend's arm was around him. Nature was a lot less scary when you couldn't see it. 

In the morning, the travellers took a slight detour to a cabin to drop off their garbage, and then they made a final turn away from civilization. Norway had his traditionally amiable countenance cranked up to orgasmically-serene at the prospect at heading into the deep wilds. 

“Your expression makes me a little sick, you do realize, Norway? And considering I'm already holding back my screams, I'm not sure I can hold back any sort of knee-jerk reaction to throw up all over you.” 

Norway's ripost was just a laugh. 

Sweden was a classy enough person not to turn the comment into an insult about Denmark's highly trained gag reflex. 

Åland didn't even hear the comment; he was too busy watching out for Russians and dangerous Finns that might be in the area. 

****

After trekking around the mountains for six days, Denmark's tentative optimism about nature had been strained to the point of near-nonexistence. The hard ground had gotten to his back, the days of hiking up and down and up had begun to cramp his calves. He was also dirty and smelly and his hair was a little lank. It wasn't even that he was fastidiously clean or compulsively determined not to have any man-stink around him. He was a guy; he was okay with it in moderate amounts. It was not okay when he was sure that he was acting as his own bear-repellent generator.

He did have consolation in that Sweden was a fastidiously clean person, and was suffering just as greatly. 

There was also the unexpected revelation that he kind of liked the scruffy mountain-man look that Norway was currently rocking with his mountain boots and camping cargo pants and flannel shirt rumpled and smudged. The scruffy beard was also pretty hot. He had previously assumed that beards belonged on old, unattractive men like Russia. 

One of the things Denmark prided himself on was his flexible sexual interests. Not that he'd ever be flexible enough to fit Russia into it, but a scruffy Norway was certainly on the list now. A scruffy Norway was hopefully on the list for later this evening. He just had to get through the day first. 

Upon waking up the first few days, he had hyperventilated a little as Norway just held his hand and gave him a pattern to breathe slowly to. Today, he was now too sore and drained to attempt any erratic breathing. 

Breakfast had been another meal of porridge with raisins. There wasn't even any brown sugar for it as that had all been used on the third morning to entice him from the tent. After breakfast, they cleaned up the camping spot– “Respect nature, and leave as little a trace of your passing as possible”– Norway had drilled this into his head. That was also why he had to actually carry garbage in his pack. Not that he was all gung-ho for littering, but it seem somehow really wrong to carry garbage in the same bag where he kept his underwear. 

They were at least heading back down from the mountains, and the cold and the glaciers which skirted their sides. Unfortunately, as glaciers stop existing, their ice turns to runoff, which can create water hazards. By mid-afternoon, the three experienced hikers and their beleaguered companion came upon one that was a little too deep to ford if there was another, easier crossing in range. 

Looking with unnecessary concern at Sweden, Åland said, “Stay here... and watch Denmark while Norway and I scout for any better crossing. We'll do a 30-minute search.” 

“A break only six hours after starting? This day, while still terrible and full of natural terror– to which I am mostly numb by this point– is less full of suck than yesterday.” 

Looking askance from where he had settled under a tree, Sweden shot Denmark a dirty look. The other two men just walked away in opposite directions.

After a few minutes of silence, Sweden asked, “If you knew you were going to be so viciously opposed to everything during this trip, why did you even bother to come?” 

Denmark, joining Sweden on the ground, recognized Sweden's tone as the one that sounded condescending, but was more along the lines of “confused concern which cannot be properly displayed because I am so repressed that I accidentally fathered a child with my enemy's sister because someone thought I might be gay.” Upon reflection, he had to admit the title was a bit outdated, considering Sweden was in a public relationship with Åland. 

“Any answer going to be forthcoming? Or was this just another plan of yours to be belligerent? It can't be healthy for your relationship with Norway to always be complaining about something he loves so much.” 

Silence met Sweden's question once again, but this time Denmark was simply playing with the straps of his pack which was sitting next to him instead of unhelpfully naming characteristics of Sweden's speech. Sweden let out a huff of derision at the silence. 

Trying to question for the third time, Sweden said, “You know I am very fond of Norway; we used to fight over him. He's caring, capable, and friendly, sure. But he's also a woodsman. He loves being outside on the sides of a mountain or sailing the fjords or just climbing the tallest tree he can find. He's so good around nature that even the animals around here love him.” 

Taking off his glasses to rub his eyes, Sweden continued, “My question is, why you are in a relationship with someone who is wrapped up in something you very much dislike?” 

Feeling defensive, Denmark began to babble a retort without thinking too much about what he was saying. “We share interests, lots of interests! There's beer, and sex, and porn, and I don't like coffee quite as much as him, but I still like it. We both like breasts! And we share the belief that if he wasn't in a relationship with me, he wouldn't get into anything with you.... And I know that last one was weak. And maybe some of the other ones were, too. 

“But, Sweden, I mean, you and Åland have lots of real stuff common. And you get on great together, and you guys seem to do lots of things together. Things that are not just eating and having sex.” 

Getting a bit angry, partially because he was also a little emotionally constipated himself, partially because they had finished the last of the alcohol on day four, and mostly because he was having this conversation with Sweden of all people, Denmark finished with, “So this was me trying to, like, get into his life and interests so it isn't just food and sex and sleep between us.” 

Getting up with his last words, he started to stomp up the mountain, putting distance between him and Sweden. 

Giving another huff– but an amused one this time– Sweden responded to himself, “I don't know whether to be impressed by the amount of thought that you actually put into your relationship, or disgusted with the lack of effort you put into trying to actually enjoy the experience so you would get to like nature; though I suppose there is nothing wrong with both.” 

**** 

Storming back up the mountain, Denmark worked himself up about all the things he was questioning about his relationship. He knew Norway was happy, but Norway was always happy in his own relaxed manner. He knew Norway enjoyed it when they had sex, but he also knew that Norway hadn't had a lot of sex with other people, so that could just be liking the act itself instead of the person. He knew that Norway would rather date him than Sweden. He would stake his life on that one. 

There was still the matter of why Norway was dating him rather than someone else who wasn't Sweden. He was simultaneously terrified of and hated nature, he'd sleep with nearly anyone who asked– before he started seriously dating Norway– and he was perpetually using the other man as a pillow. 

He knew why _he_ was dating Norway; Norway was a huge formative influence on his childhood, and he kind of looked up to the man as a stable role model. That, and the man was hot and they had always got on well together. 

The sex was also good with Norway. And Norway always fed him in the mornings, sex the previous night or not. 

When it came out like that it seemed a little creepy. Like Norway was some sort of paedophile child-groomer. Which he wasn't. Denmark was sure of that; he did enough things that Noway disliked to disqualify that assumption. 

Running out of anger and confusion fuelled steam, Denmark began to take note of his surroundings. He then slowed his furious pace. 

His confusion was now fuelling panic. He was alone in the mountains of Norway without even his backpack. 

A cry of “AAAAARRRRRR” rang though the wilderness, heard by nobody. 

**** 

After wearing his voice out, making his throat sore, and making himself thirsty, Denmark stopped screaming a few minutes later. 

He had no idea about how he should go about surviving in the bowels of his non-sentient archenemy. He knew logically that it would not try to actively kill him, but he also knew that sometimes nature spat up creatures like bears, and beer-stealing ghosts, and moose. Those things would all certainly kill him if they got the chance. 

There was also the matter of it being late afternoon: the sun would be setting in the next few hours and then the temperature would plummet. Then he would die because he couldn't survive a night on the mountain by himself. He didn't know how to make shelter out of trees and rocks. He could only make shelters with money by ordering them from Sweden. 

Since he couldn't survive the night, he would simply have to retrace his steps to find where everyone else was. That would be simple; he would just turn around and walk. 

Spinning around, he found that nothing looked familiar, but he resolved to not die and began to walk. 

He was feeling nearly dead with exhaustion and dehydration when dusk began to settle. His walking had been interspersed with bouts of circled pacing and rocking while crouched on his heels. 

Stumbling along a bit more, Denmark felt for sure that he was getting close to where he had left everyone else. He had been walking for a _long_ time, and _surely_ he was almost there. He then tripped for the 24th time. He knew it was that many because he had made a game out of counting his falls; something fun in the midst of the slowly drawn out death. 

When he fell the 25th time, he didn't stay conscious to remember it. 

**** 

He became aware again once he felt warm and moist snorting close to his head. It was followed by a low rumble. He was a little afraid it would be a moose: the most terrifying creature to ever wander the solid earth. 

Cracking open an eye, he found he was staring unhelpfully at the ground, and that he could not see anything useful. Turning his sore and cold neck, he came to see the maw of a great brown bear. 

“Denmark! Denmark!” 

Since he could remember that he did not understand bears, and because he recognized Norway's husky voice, the prone man chuckled weakly smiled. 

“Hey Norway,” he softly mumbled. His mouth was a little hard to move. It was also pretty cold. “I kinda missed you. I think I like nature even less when you aren't in it.” 

Kneeling down to Denmark's side, Norway began to feel him over for injuries. “You're pretty cold, and you have a number of bruises and lacerations. I only have the small first aid kit with me, but we can catch a ride to a hunting cabin of Svalbard's.” Quickly finishing up with the disinfectant and bandages, Norway held out a bottle of water to Denmark. 

“And something for the dehydration. You can't have too much at once, though, or else you'll likely throw it back up.” 

Grabbing a blanket from the pack he had brought, Norway wrapped Denmark up and, much to the other man's horror, put him on top of the bear. 

**** 

At Svalbard's cabin, Norway helped Denmark off the bear. He then thanked the bear for her aid, and asked that she relay a message to Åland and Sweden that everything was fine. 

The bear seemed happy to do so, not that Denmark could really understand the bear's response. It was just some grunting and nodding. But everyone always seemed happy to do anything for Norway, so it was probably a safe guess. 

Denmark was then pulled into the tiny wooden lodge, where Norway made sure to give him another miserly small amount of water. Denmark protested while Norway just carried him to the cot in a corner. 

After depositing him, Norway began to light his brother's wooden stove with the amply stocked cut-wood lying around. 

After getting the stove heating up, Norway began to set some water to boil in an old pot. 

“How are you feeling, Denmark?” 

Thinking a little about his condition, Denmark replied, “Pretty cold, sore, and some of these cuts itch a lot. But I dunno, fine, probably.” 

“You're cold still? Are you warming up at all? I suppose you were out there most of the night,” the traditionally calm tone to Norway's voice was beginning to slip. “Ahh, but we don't have enough water to give you a bath, or a big enough tub. I suppose I could give you a sponge bath, but that seems like it would just make you colder in the long run.” 

Beginning to wring his hands and shift his weight, Denmark smiled up from his position on the cot. “Really, you can't think of any way to warm me up? Because right now we are re-enacting the best scene in _Sexman and the Women He Loves: Saving Lives One (or More) Orgasms at a Time_.” 

A smile of remembrance came over Norway's face at that, which then shifted to a lecherous one. 

Well, as lecherous as Norway's smiles ever got. Lechery was more Denmark's thing. 

Coming over to the bed, Norway held out the water bottle once more. “Better have some more, then.” Denmark sucked down what Norway allowed him. 

Putting the bottle onto the floor, he pulled Norway over him. “Well, come on, Sexman. Save my life. And I must say, that scruffy-man disguise you have on, very fetching. Some would say it's even sexier than your superhero alter ego.” 

Rising a blond eyebrow, Norway leaned in to kiss Denmark's mouth, stilling the fantasy. He then rubbed his rather impressive scruff against the peach-fuzz that always seemed to decorate Denmark's face, no matter when the other man last shaved. 

“You like the beard? I'm gonna get paranoid that you like Svalbard more than me.” 

“What, you mean do I find you more attractive when you have a beard exactly like your twin brother? And here I am, having sex on his bed.” Playfully, Denmark said, “Maybe you should be worried, I am a pretty big slut.” 

“Well, at least you're not as big a slut as Sweden. Or Sister Sweden.” They both paused for a moment to consider Sister Sweden. They both got a little bit hotter over it. 

“Since Sister Sweden isn't here to save my life with orgasms, you'll just have to do it, Sexman. Only you can divest me of these clothes and bring me to completion.” 

Still kissing Denmark, Norway began to push the other man's shirts up. Once they had pooled around his neck, he stopped the kissing to divest the clothes from his body. Seeing Denmark's torso laid bare, Norway began kissing all the bruises that had been hidden by the shirt. On their own they weren't bad, there were just a lot of them from when Denmark had _kept falling down_. Norway was sure that Denmark would have pretty bruised knees already, so that ruled out some of their favourite sexual positions. 

Getting up once again, Denmark made whining noises at the loss of contact. “Dammit Sexman. How can you save my life if you aren't touching me?” 

“Stop being petulant, hapless victim. I am simply removing my clothes so that all my sexy powers may shine forth. Clothes block my powers from working, and only naked can I most easily save your life. Also, I will have to remove more of your clothes. Or else I will not be able to make you orgasm.” The last statement was given with Norway standing naked at the end of the cot containing a half-naked Denmark. 

“Booo! What kind of superhero are you? Can't even make me come in my pants.” With that, Denmark divested himself of his own pants and underwear. Taking them off revealed that his knees were, in fact, bruised and purple. 

“And now that we are both naked, save my life!” Denmark said as theatrically as possible. Norway crawled over his smaller boyfriend and resumed his kissing an rubbing the damaged torso, getting some heat into it. Denmark continued to make pleased noises as he was quite happy to be administered to by someone as heroic as Norway. 

After a few minutes of naked heavy petting, Norway moved down to Denmark's torso to his boyfriend's cock. Halting at the crotch area, Norway wrinkled his nose. 

“Man, didn't you wash at all since we've been on the trail?” 

With wide, innocent and ignorant eyes, Denmark gave a questioning, “No?” in response. 

Making another face, Norway said, “Well, normally I would blow you, but since I am not putting my mouth on that, you're just going to have to settle for being fucked.” 

Gasping a little, both in theatrics, and because Denmark was really fond of blowjobs, “But, but, I'll die without a blowjob.” 

“As the only medically trained superhero in the room, I believe I am the only one who can judge what will save your life. And I judge it a good, hard, fuck.” Norway tilted his head to the side to catch sight of Denmark's knees. “But, we'll have to be a little careful of those,” he added in a bit of a softer voice. 

“Whatever, fuck me on my back. I don't suppose your brother keeps any condoms and lube around here? Not that I expect you to keep tabs on your brother's sex life.” His voice rose a little at the next sentence he blurted out: “Not that I keep track of my sister's sex life!” 

“I don't know about Svalbard, but _I_ have those. A superho– I mean a super _hero_ must always be prepared to save lives. I put some in my pack in case you got frisky on the trail. It seems like before this the hiking always wore you out.” Rubbing some of the bruises along Denmark's thigh, he said, “But now I know I just didn't push you _hard_ enough.” 

Norway pulled the pack over to him, and dug through it to pull out condoms and lube. He took opened the first to put it on and gave the latter to Denmark. Sliding the lube up his ass crack, he beamed up at Denmark. “All done.” 

“Whatever; it's your ass.” 

Spreading Denmark's knees, he tried to line his cock up with the hole, but it was a little difficult due to the low cot and that he could not really balance on it due to the fact that it was tiny. He eventually got his right knee up on the cot and his cock in Denmark. 

Throwing his hands up, Denmark accidentally hit the wall behind his head. “Oww! But what I was originally going for there was 'Yah, sex!'” 

“Of course you were,” replied Norway as he began to thrust. It was awkward due to the height, but eventually Norway got a pace going that both of them liked. 

Then, with a crash disproportionally small to the shock that it gave both of them, the cot's legs against the wall gave way, leading Norway to lose his balance and fall into the valley created by the cot and the wall. He had pulled Denmark along too, but since the smaller man was already on the cot, Denmark had simply rolled on top of Norway, hit his knee on the wall, and trapped the larger man in the valley. 

Looking at Norway trapped in the divide between broken bed and wall with a look on his face akin to one of his precious deer, Denmark snickered. “Bit heavier than your brother, are you, Norway? But I like all your soft edges. It's like you have breasts everywhere.” 

“Mmm, I endeavour to please those I save.” 

“Well, Sexman, what do we do now that there's no bed on which to perform any life-saving sex? And I'm not going on my knees, they're already shot. Am I just going to die? Are you going to let the evil Mother Nature and the Laws of Thermodynamics win?” 

“We don't need a bed to save your life, just someplace to get some leverage,” Norway mused. 

Looking to his right, Denmark asked, “Wall?” 

Wagging his eyebrows, “It's your back.” 

“Shut up and save my life.” 

Norway struggled into a sitting position with Denmark somehow still riding his cock. Grunting a little, and then a lot more, he staggered to his feet with his arms under Denmark's ass, while Denmark balanced himself by hanging onto Norway's shoulders. 

Giving Denmark's back a little bit of a slam against the wooden wall of the cabin, Norway began to thrust again. 

To keep himself in one place, Denmark tried to lock his ankles behind Norway's back, but he could not keep them there. Apparently all the biking that he did on level, paved streets didn't translate to serious muscles for his calves and thighs. And he had been so proud of his physical prowess when he and the Netherlands had run Iceland and his motorized monstrosity off the road with nothing but their bicycles. In retrospect, both of the bikers had been high at the time, and their memory of the event had possibly been aggrandized. 

“I'm pretty impressed that you can hold me up here,” Denmark said in a fond voice. 

“Well, we superheros have to perform in the most unlikely of circumstances,” said Norway, and Denmark went in for a kiss. 

Neither lasted too much longer, what with all the previous stimulation on the cot, and the fact that neither of them had gotten off in the past week. 

Denmark came with a loud, “And glory-be, my life is now saved. Thank you, Sexman!” 

Norway set down Denmark and pulled the remains of the cot padding and the blankets to form a nest on the floor. Sitting down, he patted the space beside him. 

“Come, sit, have a chat with me,” Norway said with a smile. 

Feeling too worn out to do anything else, anyway, Denmark flopped down, leaning into Norway. 

“I heard about what happened from Sweden.” 

“Ugh. There is not enough alcohol in this cabin to have this conversation.” 

Making a frown in resonant sympathy, Norway nodded. “I know, but we need to have it. Because you almost died because of it.” 

“Only because I was in the middle of the mountains. If that conversation happened anywhere else, there would have been police or a hotel or a taxi or a bus.” 

Frowning again, Norway didn't let that deter him. “I know, but this is something that seems to weigh on your mind, so just get it out, and then it can be over or we can fix it or we can just never talk about it again.” 

“Wait a minute, you said Sweden already told you; you already know.” 

“Fine, we will just assume that the first half of this conversation wasn't held through Sweden. Denmark, I love you. I do. And I love you for who are. I like going to the wilderness with those who also like it, or by myself, or wandering with some friendly bears. 

“And us, I think we're okay. I like that we aren't co-dependent. I can go out into the mountains for a weekend to wander by myself, and you can meet up with the Netherlands to make Sister Japan's nose bleed.” 

“I just wanted to be a part of what you do. Build some connection or solidarity or some shit like Sweden or Åland.” 

Both of them burst out laughing at the implicit irony in the heartfelt statement. “You two are on the best terms when you don't actually have to speak to each other. And I don't want to date Sweden– or Åland– I like dating you.” 

Still laughing a little, Denmark kissed Norway's cheek. “Good, because I like nature even less now than when we first came out here.”

**Author's Note:**

> SatW was actually the fandom I was most hoping to get to write for Yuletide, and my recipient and I both love Norway x Denmark. It was like a perfect storm of recipient/fandom/pairing/request/writer. It kinda made me want to fulfill the prompt, hardcore.
> 
> This was loads of fun to write, and lots of firsts for me: first time time writing from a webcomic, first time I wrote 4000 words in one day, and first time writing sex. That was weird (but fun!).
> 
> Betaed by opalsong on a very limited time-frame.
> 
> Also got pollyrepeat's editorial opinion on it, and lots and lots of enthusiasm to actually write the thing.


End file.
